The Mailer Review/Volume 13, 2019/Here, Now: Difference between revisions

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{{byline|last=Cetrano|first=Sal|url=http://prmlr.us/mr13cet3}}
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
<poem>
{|cellpadding=5 style="width: 50%;"
{|cellpadding=5 style="width: 50%;"
|<div style="text-align: center;">|
|<div style="text-align: center;">|
For our own grave and shallow reasons,<br />
we occupy each other for a night. Bathed,<br />
your milky body is in season, this house<br />
you carry, to dance the dance and sleep.<br />


I light candles, play an oldies station.<br />
Odd, almost intimate, our tongues lace,<br />
but the motions are mechanical, a muscular<br />
offering, two snails wrestling on the moon.<br />


'''Here, Now'''
Yet, you are here, you are with me, now.<br />
Sal Cetrano
For every inch you open up, I’ll drive<br />
 
a chariot through, sport rose-colored eyes,<br />
For our own grave and shallow reasons,
swallow whatever drivel dims your pain.<br />
we occupy each other for a night. Bathed,
your milky body is in season, this house
you carry, to dance the dance and sleep.
 
I light candles, play an oldies station.
Odd, almost intimate, our tongues lace,
but the motions are mechanical, a muscular
offering, two snails wrestling on the moon.
 
Yet, you are here, you are with me, now.
For every inch you open up, I’ll drive
a chariot through, sport rose-colored eyes,
swallow whatever drivel dims your pain.
 
For it’s truth that’s left me like this,
swapping empathy and sweat with a breeze.
Were Death to come, halving this loneliness,
I’d suit up and leave you with the keys.


Instead, smell sickness in sweet familiars,
For it’s truth that’s left me like this,<br />
taste it in riot of piss and bitterroot.
swapping empathy and sweat with a breeze.<br />
Across your deepest essence, see me stretch
Were Death to come, halving this loneliness,<br />
my muddy cloak, the ultimate pollution.
I’d suit up and leave you with the keys.<br />


|}
Instead, smell sickness in sweet familiars,<br />
taste it in riot of piss and bitterroot.<br />
Across your deepest essence, see me stretch<br />
my muddy cloak, the ultimate pollution.<br />
|}</div>


{{Review}}
{{Review}}
{{DEFAULTSORT: Now, Here}
{{DEFAULTSORT: Here, Now}}
[[Category:Poetry (MR)]]
[[Category:Poetry (MR)]]

Latest revision as of 09:48, 3 March 2021

« The Mailer ReviewVolume 13 Number 1 • 2019 »

For our own grave and shallow reasons,
we occupy each other for a night. Bathed,
your milky body is in season, this house
you carry, to dance the dance and sleep.

I light candles, play an oldies station.
Odd, almost intimate, our tongues lace,
but the motions are mechanical, a muscular
offering, two snails wrestling on the moon.

Yet, you are here, you are with me, now.
For every inch you open up, I’ll drive
a chariot through, sport rose-colored eyes,
swallow whatever drivel dims your pain.

For it’s truth that’s left me like this,
swapping empathy and sweat with a breeze.
Were Death to come, halving this loneliness,
I’d suit up and leave you with the keys.

Instead, smell sickness in sweet familiars,
taste it in riot of piss and bitterroot.
Across your deepest essence, see me stretch
my muddy cloak, the ultimate pollution.